


Bonds of Light

by Daiako (Achrya)



Series: Kinktober 2017 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Dubious Consent, M/M, Master/Slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 02:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Having a genie is not all it's cracked up to be. Sure, the unlimited wish thing is nice, but nothing is free and the price is steep indeed.For Kinktober, Prompts are Master/Slave and Genie





	Bonds of Light

Prompto knew about genies as much as anyone else did. Mythical creatures, lived in lamps, granted wishes, usually tried to dick you over in the course of a ‘Be careful what you wish for’ kind of way. Generally bitter about being enslaved to a lamp and forced to do magic for others but not themselves, and all of that. He had a wealth of fairy tale logic behind him that should have deterred him from making the deal.

Yet when he stumbled across a decanter at a yard sale and took it home, intrigued by the dark glass and irregular shape that came from glass blowing and hand shaping, to clean it up and a fuckign genie popped out? He did not do the logical thing and reject it or the noble thing in releasing it or even shriek and run away in fear, which would have made sense. No, he’d just fallen on his ass and stared up at the impressive specimen that had entered his life in a burst of blue light, crackle of electricity, and puff of dark smoke.

Gladio was tall and built like a tank, with tanned skin, dark hair, and amber eyes lined in dark khol. He wore only loose linen pants, upper half left bare to leave sculpted abs, arms like tree trunks, and an intricately done eagle tattoo on display. The minute he’d become a solid figure he’d stretched, muscles pulling and rippling, then stepped over Prompto’s prone form to stare down at him, a smirk on his lips. 

“So you’re my new Master?” The genie tilted his head to the side as his eyes raked over his body hotly. Apparently satisfied with what he saw he smiled broadly and crouched down, hands and knees coming down on the floor at the sides of Prompto’s body. “I’m Gladio.” 

He was burning hot, hovering so close to Prompto the heavy scent of spices was able to sink into his nose and he could see flecks of gold and silver spread over his skin, catching the light and sparkling. A hand cupped his chin, made him tilt his head back to meet the genie’s eyes. It was like being electrocuted, a near painful tingling zip of energy rushing through him, down his spine, out his fingertips, pooling low in his stomach and making his cock harden in his sweatpants. His head was turned to the right then to the left before Gladio’s hand slipped down to brush over his neck.

“Do you have a name, little master?” His voice was whiskey rough, deep and slow and burning, and wrapped around Prompto like it had a physical presence. His thumb stroked along his collarbone, dipped under the stretched out neck of his t-shirt. 

Prompto squirmed, each touch sparking static to life under his skin. “A-ah. Prompto. It’s Prompto.” 

“Prompto. I pledge my power to you, as the owner of my vessel, and will make nearly anything you wish come to be.” Gladio said, eyes darting back up to meet Prompto’s. “Will you accept my pledge and my service.”

And Prompto, who had made many a bad decision when confronted with a nice face and even nicer body, accepted without asking about the details. 

Gladio smiled, dangerous and dark, then leaned in to seal their lips together. Light, blinding blue, surged up and, as Gladio’s tongue slipped between his parted lips, heat simmered beneath the skin of Prompto’s neck, wrists, and ankles. 

He should have asked about the details because now he knew that it was Gladio who was the master here, truly. Yes, Prompto had his wishes, unlimited, with few conditions (no immortality, no forcing the love of others, no wishing for the power of a genie) and so far without any backfiring, but he had to pay for each and every one in whatever manner Gladio saw fit, without question or protest. And, when it was all said and done and Prompto’s life had run out, Gladio would take and keep his soul. 

He was the one chained to the lamp. Literally, actually. Unseen by others there were bindings, golden magic that sat on his skin like tattoos crafted from light and hummed with energy, at his wrist, ankles, and neck. He saw them every time he looked down or saw himself in the mirror, collars and cuffs, a constant reminder or who he belonged to, body, mind, and eventually soul. If he went too far they twinged a warning then began to throb painfully until he returned to their range. If he tried to resist a command they pulled at him, pushed and heated until he relented. 

He’d tried, once he realized how it worked, to resist making wishes. After all he’d gone the first twenty plus years of his life without a genie, what did he need one for now? 

But Gladio had pointed out, the picture of indifference, that his soul was forfeit no matter how many wishes he did or didn’t make so he might as well enjoy it. And, he’d leered, it wasn’t like he’d ever had to do anything all that terrible. Which wasn’t exactly true, Gladio had sent him to deal with other creatures, to fetch items from dangerous places, to run interference between him and other genies who’d turned out to be his relatives, and all manner of things that ran from ridiclious to ‘potentially fatal’. But none of that was the point.

He didn’t have the words to explain it wasn’t the act of paying for wishes that bothered him, it was that there was no choice. He was completely under Gladio’s control. Any whim the genie had, any desire he voice, Prompto had to obey. He didn’t feel like his own person when Gladio came to collect his fee, but rather like a puppet or toy to be played with and take possession of. He was Gladio’s plaything, his servant. His slave. 

He made wishes anyway (Gladio was right, he was stuck and might as well make the best of it). He told himself he did it for good reasons, to help out friends and family, to get his pictures noticed by the right people when he might otherwise lack the connections to do so, to go to places he’d never have the money to visit: important, worthwhile wishes. 

But the truth was it didn’t matter how good the cause because in the end the result was the same. 

“Strip.” Were the first words out of Gladio’s mouth when Prompto stepped into his apartment. 

Prompto turned to face him, something scathing on the tip of his tongue, but it died a terrible death at the sight of the genie. Gladio was shirtless and barefoot, glass of something dark brown in one hand, leaning back in a comfortable looking arm chair. His eyes were narrowed and shadowed, mouth curved upwards into a smirk, and, as Prompto watched, his tongue darted out to drag over his lips. 

The front of his pants were visibly tented, pulled taut over what Prompto knew by now was an impressively sized cock. His free hand was rubbing over the bulge almost idly but when he caught Prompto’s eye he smiled wickedly and let his legs fall apart.  

Prompto’s bindings throbbed, pulsing in time to his heartbeat. It was going to be one of those nights of repayment then. 

He wished he could say a thrill didn’t run down his spine and that his stomach didn’t knot up at the thought. More than once Gladio had suggested he liked these nights, that he made his wishes hoping that Gladio would take the exchange from his body and not with some task. 

Prompto wasn’t entirely sure if he was right or wrong. 

“Well?” Gladio asked. His hand shifted, ice clinking together in the quiet of the apartment. “Do I need to repeat myself?” 

“No. Sorry, Master.” The word fell off his tongue easier than he would like but they’d been around and around this so many times that it was almost reflex. 

“No talking tonight.” Gladio leaned back in his seat. Prompto’s lips pressed together; he pressed against his teeth with his tongue, felt words build and then get lodged in his throat, and said nothing at all. 

His jacket came off first, nearly dropped carelessly to the floor but a raised eyebrow from Gladio had him backtracking to hang it up. Sweater and shirt next, folded and placed on the couch, shoes, socks, pants. He lingered on his briefs, glanced up to find Gladio’s eyes hooded with anticipation, looked away and pushed them down. His cock, hard and curving up towards his belly, bobbed when he freed it. 

He heard Gladio moving, the creaking of the chair under his weight and the sound of leather shifting. He snapped and the air between them shimmered and solidified. A chain formed, thin but with weight to it, stretching from the collar of light around Prompto’s neck to where the other end was looped around Gladio’s wrist. It was always there, invisible until Gladio wanted it to be seen but never forgotten about. 

“Come here. Crawl.” 

His knees hit the floor followed by his palms. The floor was polished wood and was none too gentle on him as he crawled to the genie, eyes trained on his own warped reflection. The chain never touched the ground or even drooped, the length shortening as he got closer to the genie, until finally he was between his legs, awaiting his next command. 

The apartment was warm, the perfect temperature at all times, but he was shaking. Gladio’s hand settled on his head and ruffled his hair before pulling him up. Prompto followed until he was on his knees and face to face with Gladio’s erection. The genie hadn’t bothered doing more than pushing his pants down enough to expose himself, black fabric bunched high on his thighs. 

Gladio’s hand came down so his thumb could press at Prompto’s lips. He opened his mouth and let himself be pulled closer, lead down, and his slack mouth invaded. Gladio’s length glided over his tongue, heavy and tasting of salt and skin, filled his mouth. He opened wider, relaxed his throat as best he could, and closed his eyes. 

Gladio held him, grip firm, and fucked his mouth in slow lazy motions, forcing his head up and down to match. His cock bumped against the roof of his mouth, the back of his throat, forced down further before dragging out. Prompto tries to open himself up more, to take it the way Gladio likes him to, to be pliant and easy. Precum drools over his tongue, bitter and thick, and spit drips out of the corners of his mouth to dribble down his chin. He aches with the urge to swallow, to move, to do something, but he knew better. If that was what Gladio wanted it’s what he would have told him to do. 

He was to do as he was told, no more and no less. 

Prompto’s hands curl into fists where they rest on his thighs, mere inches from his cock. His throat clenches and and flutters, he can feel the light collar straining, tight and unforgiving. 

A snap came from above his head. Prompto shuddered against the feeling of being invaded, stretched and slickened, without actually being touched. Magic made him tingle from the inside out. He knew he was blushing, felt his face grow warm, but there was nothing to do about it. 

He would never grow used to that, the impersonal way Gladio could prepare him with a thought, as if doing it the normal way was something he couldn’t be bothered with, unless he was ordering Prompto to do it himself while he watched. 

“Up here.” Gladio tugged on the chain as he spoke and Prompto went with it, Gladio’s cock sliding from his mouth with a filthy slurp. Gladio held up a finger and turned it in a slow circle, a familiar wordless command for Prompto to turn away from him before carefully positioning himself to hover above the genie’s lap. The chain dropped away (an illusion, because Gladio’s end was always connected to the genie just as Prompto’s was connected to him). 

Gladio touched him, hand smoothing up his side, around to his chest, and then up to curl around his throat with just enough pressure to make him work to drag in air. “When you die you're to be bound to your own lamp, to work off the last of your debt. But,” Gladio’s other hand curled around his hip and pushed lightly. Prompto lowered himself, breath catching when Gladio’s cock pushed against and past his rim.  Prompto's mouth fell open and his breath left him in harsh pants as he took more of Gladio into his body. He never got used to the how warm Gladio was or how big, the pressure inside as his body stretched to make him fit. Gladio hummed, hand pushing on his throat to force him to lean back until his mouth was against his neck. “I think I’ll keep you."

The bindings at his throat, wrist, and ankles throbbed. 


End file.
